A/N: As has been the case already for other happenings in this story, I will remind everyone that Roman society was not like ours and the use of punishments such as crucifixion are well documented by the Romans.

Caput XVII

***CLXXI***

The debris strewn across the waterfront paled in comparison to the litany of bodies upon the surf. Thousands more belonged to the deep, trapped in the hulks of ruined ships resting on the sandy bottom of the Gulf of Corinth. Barely four hundred crawled from the waves, heaving water from their lungs; four hundred out of four thousand sailors and two thousand soldiers.

The Temple of Asclepius lay in ruins, destroyed by a massive wave carrying two triremes on its crest to a violent end. Only now, hours later, could the citizens of Naupactus retrieve the elevated bodies of those poor souls locked in the rowing decks of the great ships. Annabeth moved slowly throughout the devastation. The bodies swelled in the growing summer heat. Apollo is unrelenting this day, she thought bitterly. It seems a second god opposes me. Poseidon raged against us last night and today Apollo assaults our senses.

Those were not the only gods imposing their will upon her army. Overnight it seemed as if Phobos and Deimos had passed through the camp, their influence afflicting her soldiers. Fear and dread seemed to rapidly be converting into panic and terror. At Dodona, the men of Rome had inflicted defeat upon them. In Naupactus, the gods had turned on them.

"We should get them out of this city. They believe it cursed." Stavros of Boeotia stated calmly.

"Would you not?" spat back Mark of Philippi. Her remaining lieutenants, Clarisse and Michael, refused to speak. This was mostly due to the fact that the two of them could not decide if the dōdekátheon or the Moirai were more cruel. Only they, the Olympians or the Fates, could have caused such hardship upon the Hellenistic army.

"We will east." Annabeth spoke slowly. "We will cross the Daphnus and into Ozolian Locris. If we have to fight, we do it at Oeneon where Hesiod died."

"And Demosthenes began his disastrous invasion of Aetolia," Annabeth glared at Mark of Philippi.

"Where there is a place most holy to Nemeian Zeus," she replied acidly.

"Of the most ancient of the twelve, only he seems to have considered our cause just. Hades accepts many of our people to his realm, Poseidon sends them there, Zeus has not spoken yet." Annabeth hated that Michael was right.

***CLXXII***

"Six thousand killed or wounded!" cried Publius Octavian Varus to the assembled Senators. "A butcher at work! How can we trust a Graecus to defeat his own people when he sends so many of Rome's sons to the realm of Pluto? How can this bastard child of Greece be entrusted with the will of the Senate and the People of Rome?" A very smug look covered the Legacy of Apollo's face as he sat to the applause of Senators. The reports of the battle at Dodona had just been revealed to the assembly. Agrippa studied the reaction of the Senate, then slowly stood, and walked toward the center of the chamber.

"Yes, yes, a grievous loss of life indeed. And that number is nearly tripled when the enemy's losses are added." The Senators applauded his comments. Agrippa seemed to consult the air for further information. "Six thousand casualties, hmph, nearly as many as resulted from a delayed cavalry charge at the Cilician Gates under this "bastard's" father, Bassus. You were there, my dear Senator, is that not the case?" Again Senators applauded, though fewer. He did not wait for Varus to respond. "Yet at the end of his campaign, we threw the man a bloody triumph. A celebration of the death he brought upon Rome and her enemies." Very few men seemed happy with his soliloquy at this point. Agrippa swept his arms across the crowd that had just condemned one man for his losses and just twelve years earlier given his adoptive father a triumph. "How could this body ever celebrate a man who took heavy losses in a battle that he won?" Octavian seemed to realize the point being made, opened his mouth to speak, then quelled his ambition at Agrippa's continued comments. Agrippa directed his open hand at Varus. "In our midst, we have an honored veteran of Bassus' brutal campaign, a man who has experienced what the Bassus men can inflict upon Rome. Heavy losses in the defense of Rome. Beds in Rome lay half occupied due to their distant campaigns." The cruelty in his eyes met with the Legacy of Apollos dread. "This honored veteran witnessed what this Graecus can do for Rome, he attacks, when others would hold back. What can Rome do with such men? I suppose…as we long have…we must reward them for victory where others could not…" His voice had become solemn. "Much like Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus after Varro, Paullus, and Geminus or Gaius Marius after Caepio and Maximus, Bassus the Elder and his son Perseus, have provided victory for this Republic," it slightly hurt him to utter the term considering Augustus' reach, "when none other could. From something as insignificant as a timely cavalry charge," he glared at Varus, "to a victory over an undefeated rebel general in Greece at personal injury, the Bassus men have always stood for Rome, and it is my personal belief they always will."

***CLXXIII***

"They flee eastward."

"They certainly couldn't fucking come west," Percy responded dryly, still exhausted from his storm. He saw several of his senior centurions snicker at his response to the young tribune. "Are they moving far enough east that the Thirteenth would be threatened?" Jason's legion was still trudging down the eastern side of Greece. The destruction of civilian property caused by Legio XIII Gemina far exceeded that caused by Percy's three legions, but civilian destruction had not been necessary when the Greeks seemed willing to destroy themselves. Since Dodona it seemed the Greek army preferred to destroy everything they passed to deny it to Percy's forces than leave their own country intact. They also seemed more than willing to kill every soldier they could catch on their own.

"No, they seem to be forming at Oeneon. It appears they wish to fight against us." Oeneon lay five miles east of his new camp on the outskirts of Naupactus. The Greeks had left the city thirty-six hours prior. Now he occupied the position near the city. The smells of the dead from the ships still hung in the air. It was not yet midday and the heat would only make matters worse.

"Prepare the men," he said sharply. "By nightfall, we will cross the Daphnus and establish a camp. We will emplace full defenses. There, the only place for them to truly hold against us is the coastal road." He paused, "However, there is the ability to launch small attacks. Even the auxilia will be inside our fortifications." He raised his hand to the instant reaction. "They are vital to our success, do not forget that. Send out some of those new scouts to ensure our path is clear."

***CLXXIV***

The defensive line ran from the coast to the beginnings of the hills and forest. Barely over a thousand yards wide, it provided the perfect location for her army to hold back the Romans. Spiked barriers and earthworks were being constructed, albeit much slower than they would have been with Leandros alive. From here, their back was toward Oeneos and the Daphnus fed the Gulf of Corinth to their front.A mile to Annabeth's north, Clarisse defended a much narrower pass through the mountains. Not even a thousand feet across, the pass of Kastraki formed the only option to advance east into Aetolia without an extreme northern transit. Two branches formed the pass, one to the south and a much narrower and less passible option further north along the banks of the Hylaethus.

Clarisse positioned her forces east of the Kostraki hill, choosing a wider defensive front of less than two thousand feet. There, the survivors of her original ten lochoi, five thousand proud sons and daughters of Sparta, numbered three thousand, eight hundred and eighteen. Annabeth provided an additional thousand light troops, a mix of archers and javelin men. The narrowness of the pass did not allow for the utilization of cavalry, regardless of that, the Romans' auxiliary cavalry seemed to outclass their own anyway. The troops prepared a light version of the defenses seen further south at Annabeth's position. Clarisse commanded nearly five thousand of the remaining fourteen thousand soldiers. Annabeth would hold her line with remainder.

The few survivors of the intended rescue fleet brought news that Mt Pelion had been sacked by the missing Roman legion. As a longtime resident of Mount Taygetos, Clarisse did not understand the pain visible on the faces of those that had known the northern mountain but understood it would be like her feelings if Taygetos was burned to the ground. The survivors had been evacuated by ship. It would have been a miniature of the evacuation they planned, had a gods damn storm not ruined their chances to survive. She and Annabeth both understood that they must inflict heavy losses in a tactical withdrawal or conduct an outright victory here, if these blooded legions were allowed to meet with the one currently razing the eastern coast their forces would become too much to defeat in a field battle and they would be forced to resort to the cities and the sieges which would follow.

***CLXXV***

His army had crossed the Daphnus. Percy sat upon a mare. Blackjack's recovery from his previous wound continued. A series of cries brought him forward quickly. Ten bodies waited on him. They were the members of a Thessalian scouting group. Outfitted with Roman equipment, the native Greeks answered to Roman coin and conducted scouting missions on Percy's behalf. Five of the corpses lay upon the Greek soil with arrows protruding from their bodies. The other five hung at the ends of ropes secured to trees. Those men had been mutilated, their hands, feet, and genitals removed and piled below them. They had passed the bodies of Roman scouts sent forward with similar fates. This, combined with the destruction of nearly all war resources ahead of them, led to building rage within Percy.

Percy turned to Marcus Primus, "Bring up that damned Son of Hermes and fifty of the prisoners we brought from Dodona."

***CLXXVI***

Four hours later, the camp rose from the earth. Earthworks and wooden barricades surrounded a mass of tents holding the majority of this army. The Second began the work and the Tenth swiftly joined, but before the Twenty-First could enter the camp, their leader Tribunus Iaticlavius Tiberius Julius Caesar Augustus was halted by Praefectus Achaea Publius Ventidius Bassus Perseanus. The two conferred for just a few moments before the legion received orders to move north and bivouac within the scrubby plains to the north of the Roman camp. Tiberius followed the commander to the command tent, where the other legates waited. The four of them stood overtop a low wooden table with a map lain across it.

"Tiberius, I'm taking your legion." The younger man appeared shocked.

"Have I failed…" His voice trailed off.

"No. I have need of you elsewhere." He motioned him to follow him into a darkened corner of the tent. "Come with me." The two moved into the shadows, nearly vanishing from the other commanders. The lead men of the Second and Tenth watched the spot of their disappearance, until Tiberius left at the quick march and Percy approached them. "Gentlemen, here is our task. Tiberius is taking the Iberians far north. Once clear of battle, his orders are to pave a path of destruction that any survivors here must cross. They have raped the countryside behind them, bringing hardship to our soldiers. Tiberius will return that favor. This war is becoming one of extinction. They will do whatever they must to erase Rome from Greece," he looked at the two men. "We must exterminate all semblance of rebellion. Thus far, they have acted, and Rome has been forced to react, no more. Tomorrow, we take the fight to them. Tiberius is taking to the fight to the center of their rebellion, Attica."

"Praefectus," Legatus Legionis Potitus Valerius Messalla began. The man always used Percy's title, as it was one of equestrian not of senatorial class. "If we are to fight tomorrow, why have you kept the Twenty-First and the Germanic cavalry from our camp."

"Because tomorrow, you will lead the Tenth and Second against their main line." He watched Marcus Primus stiffen, but knew the man's ego could take it. Messalla's could not have. "All Roman cavalry, the Gauls, and all but one of the units of archers will support your assault." There was an ambitious gleam in his eyes now. Percy slammed his hand upon the table. "Do not fall for her tricks. Both of these legions have been defeated by her before."

"Praefectus, you beat her." The implications of his tone were clear. If I managed, how could he not. Percy pointed a finger at Messalla.

"I surprised her. She clearly understands how Romans fight. If we defeat her tomorrow, then I will have beat her. Do not rush forward seeking glory. Advance steadily, keep your lines."

"Praefectus," Messalla saluted and promptly left. Percy turned to Marcus Primus.

"If he places the force at risk, take command and remedy that."

"If he refuses to give it up?"

"I leave that to you." It was now Marcus Primus' turn to salute.

***CLXXVII***

There was movement along the Roman camp's perimeter. It appeared several hundred of the general's men were spreading across a then line. At their appearance, the guards summoned Annabeth. She walked to the front of her forces and stood upon one of the earthworks. At the center of the group stood the Roman with dark armor and a blue cloak.

"Ma'am, we could ride out now and kill him." She turned slowly to Mark of Philippi.

"Have you not looked to the trees?" Their stillness impressed her. Barely visible, waiting for such a movement, sat several hundred of what could only assume to be auxiliary cavalry. Most likely Germans or Gauls.

"Movement!" someone shouted, and they looked to the center of the Roman line.

***CLXXVIII***

The man cast to the dirt beneath him was broken. There was no other way to describe the inability to cast his eyes upward or meet even meet the gaze of other prisoners. The man's goal had been to betray the Romans, via the Romans' response to that goal, he had betrayed his own. Perseus looked down on the man feeling no pity for the piteous figure the Son of Hermes cast.

"Would you deem your mission a success, Lukas?" The man could only shake his head in response. "Speak, you had a silver tongue if I remember correctly."

"I served my people," Lukas muttered.

"You people, like mine, are Rome. Greece is Roman, you are rebels."

"You are a Greek, how can you…" His words were cut off as Percy's hand crashed into the side of head.

"I am Roman and there is only one end for a rebel."

"What…what…what do you mean?" Percy's voice was cold as he uttered two words.

"Para crucis."

"What are you doing?" Panic rolled off the man. His voice quivered as his blue eyes nervously darted about.

"You failed to alter the course of events while alive. Maybe you will do so in death. A death suitable for a traitor." Several of the ever-present Germanic cavalrymen reappeared, carrying timber. Two halted beside the man now frantically looking for an escape. They carried a mallet and iron spikes. The blond man screamed as the first two spikes pierced his arms between the bones of his lower arm and drove into the wood. The screams doubled as a third and then fourth spike drove through his heel bones, piercing the skin before chiseling through the bone and again punching through the interior skin to secure his feet to the rough wooden upright. Loose ropes were placed under his shoulders secured at the back and upon the crossbar. They would bear none of the weight as long as the man's body held up to the force of the man being drawn to the ground. If the flesh gave way however, they would assure he remained hanging from the cross. The group of Germans looked at their commander. Percy knew others would be watching the crucifix rise.

"Lift him high, I want to ensure the proper message is sent."

***CLXXIX***

The first of the crosses rose slowly into the sky. Its occupant screamed as their weight pressed against the nails and his body came to solely hang against them. Annabeth watched as the first of the crucifixion seemed to be a signal to the line. She counted fifty more crosses and soon a chorus of agony carried across the flatland toward her forces. Her teeth ground together. She could not feel her body shaking in rage even though her soldiers could see it. For unlike many of them, she recognized the mop of blond hair hanging from the center cross. Despite the fifty other voices crying out in pain, the one that had whispered her name the night she became a woman rang as clearly as a solo to her ears.

She realized the crosses were far enough forward of the Roman positions and oriented in a way that they would hear little of the suffering. Her men would hear it all. They also fell within arrow range of the Roman camp. Should enterprising Greeks attempt to rescue the suffering people, she had no doubt they would be met with scores of arrows.

Is this the war we have made? Thucydides claimed a longer war depended on accidents; this man makes no mistakes that the gods can make to be an accident.

***CLXXX***

The men of Legio XXI crouched under whatever shrubbery or trees they could find. The mountain rain was cold, despite the summer heat. Their fellow legions and most of the auxiliary force leisured in the tent city that was a Roman camp. Meanwhile they suffered for no acknowledged reason. They grumbled and cursed the commanders above them. Suddenly, however, a low roar passed through their miserable collection of men as their commander, not Tiberius, but the prefect himself appeared amongst them. He swung from his horse, looking around the group. He began to speak, his voice strong against the rain that continued to pelt them.

"Men of the Twenty-First. I have been one of you, carrying forward Rome's will with the strength of my back and the swing of my sword. You are the rank and file of this Army you ask for nothing and receive much less much is demanded of you if you have never failed me. Tonight, I ask of you once again." The men had heard this from their centurions, men of status did not acknowledge their less than elite days. "I ask you to march with me seven miles under the cover of darkness, and strike at the enemy's northern force, centered around their Spartans. After the fight there, we will march again. We will march to the south or your fellow legionaries will be engaged with the enemy's main Force. I've taken your commander and sent him with the cavalry, for as you've seen, our enemy has no reservations about destroying the land and the people who might support us, of course, they only do this after reaping all the resources from the land. Young Tiberius is taking the Iberians to do the same to them." This earned smiles from the soggy foot soldiers. "Tiberius tells me that after the near death of your first legate, you were hungry for vengeance. That you hunted like fucking wolves," now the men's smiles turned to silent laughter. "I am in need of predators. Can you be that for me?"

A young centurion stepped forward, a man designated primus pilus not necessarily due to his abilities but due to the losses of those senior to him. "As long as the prey stays this side of the Styx, you will have your predators to the gates of Pluto, sir."

***CLXXXI***

A trail of destruction followed the Roman column. Zoë watched their forces continue their march south unopposed. Her Hunters had not attempted another ambush since losing twelve of their number to the lightning called down by the Son of Jupiter. In their brief battle, Zoë experienced his physical power and could not be certain if her speed and experience would match the brute force he brought to the fight.

Greek farms were raided for subsistence for the southbound legion. Villages suffered brutal searches for Greek ambushers and those that resisted burned. Phoebe had questioned her lack of action against the Romans and Zoë's only defense had been that for every ambush they executed smoke and crosses rose into the air in equal volume.

Of the four Hunters she held responsible for their involvement, one had already bore the cost for all the others. Diraeh had fallen to the lightning attack by Jupiter's son. Averna, Myrinne, and Helen still believed the Hunt's limited involvement was too little. Zoë believed them wrong. Currently they sat on the bluffs about the Hot Gates of Thermopylae, watching as another enemy of Greece passed into the heart of Greece.

***CLXXXII***

From Olympus, Artemis peered at the land beside her lieutenant. The black streak burned down the eastern flank of Greek infuriated her. But there was little she could do. Jupiter could not make up his mind on of the gods would become involved or not and in turn they did nothing. The flashes of Zeus that she and Athena witnessed after the early victories of the Greek forces no longer appeared. Not since Jupiter's son arrived in Greece and began to cut his way through it with fire. Not since the Roman legions marched out of Salona. She looked back to the place where her lieutenant stood and made her decision.

***CLXXXIII***

"You have to fall back." Zoë spun to see Artemis looking at her. She dropped to one knee.

"Milady, we're slowing them…" Artemis cut her off.

"Nearly two thousand Roman cavalry have been unleashed upon the Greek rear. They are not part of any battle; their only orders are to wreak havoc upon those that support the rebellion." Zoë was silent for a moment.

"I have seen that before." Artemis cocked her head to the side. "In the east, Bassus unleashed his cavalry commander to destroy everything Parthian he could find."

"Who was this commander?"

"A demigod."

***CLXXXIV***

Clarisse looked about her camp. This was the first time that Annabeth had released any of the army to any of her subordinates. Three weeks ago, separating 4,818 soldiers would have seen a minimal division of the force. Today, that was different. Eleven thousand casualties will do that, Clarisse thought. The Romans would attack in less than a day, she knew. They had advanced quickly. Too quickly for her taste, but Annabeth was in overall control, and she wanted to fight here. Her argument, a valid one, hypothesized that withdrawing to the south brought too great a risk of the fourth legion joining the main force and their forces becoming drastically outnumbered. Clarisse argued that the army had not recovered from their defeat. She knew they were both right and silently was glad that Annabeth was forced to make the decisions, because that left her the ability to bitch about them. Nightfall soon, she thought, knowing the morning would bring another battle against the general that had destroyed them at Dodona.

"He has to be a demigod," she muttered to herself. There was no other excuse for the limp she now walked with or the bandage on her arm. The man was brutally strong she knew, having watched him both take a blow from her spear which produced enough of a shock when it connected with humans that it could put a man down and his ability to snap the spear haft as if it was nothing. The spear had been a gift from her father; a replacement appeared in her tent the night after the battle, though it could not produce the shock of the original. She noticed upon closer examination though that the boars of Ares upon its blade had been replaced with the doves of Aphrodite. Has my father abandoned our cause?

The complete answer could not be confined to a simple yes or no. Of the twelve Olympians, the God of War currently suffered the most. Two armies, both within the ancient lands, lifted volumes of prayer and sacrifice not experienced in recent years. During one such moment of debilitation, his paramour divined the spear that now accompanied Clarisse of Sparta. For Clarisse of Sparta, the Daughter of Ares who embraced Greece and the ugliness within it and the ugliness that must be done for it with the same passion that other women reserved for their lovers, now held Aphrodite's interest.

"Polemarchos," Clarisse turned to the approaching soldier. He is too handsome to be in this mire, she shocked herself with her thoughts. It was unlike her to think of someone's appearance before their martial capability. "If I may…" he paused for a moment.

"Continue."

"I have a feeling, I cannot describe its origin, but I believe we should place more guards on watch tonight." Clarisse had ordered a twenty percent watch. One of every five men would be always awake throughout the night. Some would guard the perimeter, others the interior of the camp against their mortal enemy as well as the primordial ones: fire, storm, sickness.

"Do you question my planning and orders, captain?" she asked, beginning to bristle at someone questioning her in her first command position. She was a Daughter of Ares after all.

"No, polemarchos, I merely wished to state my fears this evening." Clarisse studied the man with slightly narrowed eyes. He appeared genuinely concerned that his hunch, for lack of a better term, would become reality. The men would be more tired come tomorrow if she increased the watches. But would I rather them be tired or dead?

"Tell them to increase the watch to two of every five soldiers. They are to send out patrols every two hours to keep a forward look for our enemy." The soldier saluted.

"It will be done, polemarchos." Clarisse turned and walked away from the man, missing the flash of pink in his eyes as the man's split in a feminine smile.

***CLXXXV***

"Magnificent bastards," Percy muttered. Behind him the men of Legio XXI and roughly thirteen hundred Germanic cavalry moved as quietly as possible through the Locrian countryside. In the end, he had changed his mind and left all of the archers with the Second and Tenth. Blankets had been torn apart and then tied around the hooves of the horses. Loose buckles or sheaths were cinched down and yet more blankets were sacrificed to muffle the edges of the scutii each soldier carried.

The men had marched nine miles to the Roman camp only to be denied entry. Outside the camp the praefectus had spoken with them and as Luna began her dominance of the air above them, they began to march again. With the moon nearly directly overhead, they had covered just over two miles. Their target, the Greek force blocking the northern pass of Kastraki, lay within a mile and a half of their position.

"Magnificent bastards," Percy muttered again. This time the primus pilus heard him.

"Sir?" Percy reined in his horse, this time a chestnut as the black stallion had not fully recovered. Admittedly, neither have I, he thought, but I will give him more time than I can afford myself. Percy looked at the centurion, too young for his role – so were you, he reminded himself – before looking at the long line of men moving in the darkness.

"These bastards, I march them all day, order them to march again, and then ask them to fight a battle in the dark. And after that battle ends, we'll march them yet again and fight another battle." Percy paused, thinking of the over 3,700 men that would never fight beside their brothers again. The dead and those too marred by his victory at Dodona to live normally. Only Jason's Legio XII Gemina maintained its strength above ninety percent. By his order, his legions contained just eight cohorts apiece and even some of those were understrength. The Tenth's cavalry had been so mauled at Dodona that he ordered it disbanded and its members were used to increase the strength of the other two equites units. The Twenty-first was the strongest, even if the newest of his legions, and he would be asking much of them this night. He had sent orders back to Lepidus to begin moving his wounded forward. He hoped it would be enough recovery for those men, but with their numbers they were essentially an overmanned Cohors equitata milliaria commanded by a legate and Percy desperately needed the reinforcements.

Percy watched his horse's ears twitch and seconds later three of his scouts appeared through the darkness. "Praefectus, they number five thousand, we estimate. They have no horsemen, but there are forward patrols and watchers along the edge of the camp."

"Terrain?" Percy asked.

"Steep to the north and south. Their main camp is north of the river, but the defensive lines extend on both sides."

"What was their guard like on the river itself?"

"Just a few men. The river is not very large, but had a deep channel." Percy turned to the primus pilus, a man who claimed his name to be Lucius though he spoke with an accent that did not support his name. He was a good soldier though, so Percy did not question it.

"How many men of the Twenty-first can swim?"

A/N: The Daphnus and Hylaethus rivers are today known as the Mornos. If one looks at a map, you will find the modern Mornos has two branches, one travels primarily north to south, while the other flows east to west before intersecting with the other branch. I have declared the north south as the Daphnus and the Hylaethus as the east west. This is perhaps not correct, but I have found no documentation distinguishing the two. The exact location of Oeneon is not known, however between its proximity to Klima Efpalio and the reported existence of a port there, as would have been necessary for Demosthenes' campaign, I have approximated its location as 38.40161578904644, 21.92800934928415. The Greek defenses are west of this position, but east of the Mornos. Additionally, I could find no recorded name for the pass in the mountains where the current town of Kastraki exists and have named the pass after the modern town.